


Amigo (WIDM High School AU)

by Balkanika_52



Category: Wie is de Mol? (Netherlands TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, everyone is happy, slight angst, slight slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balkanika_52/pseuds/Balkanika_52
Summary: Splinter is the new kid for his last year of high school. What will happen? What hijinks will ensue?Basically: a bunch of the kandidaten from seasons of the Dutch game show Wie is de Mol are in high school.Not to be taken seriously--this is written for fun.
Relationships: Rocky Hehakaija/Lakshmi Swami Persaud, Splinter Chabot/Joshua Nolet
Kudos: 1





	1. Jungle

“Splinter, your alarm’s been going off for the past ten minutes, wake up!”

Splinter let out a groan and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes to clear them of sleep before slamming the snooze button on his alarm clock. Very rarely did he oversleep, especially on a school day, but this was different. If it were up to  _ him _ , he’d stay in bed and do all his schoolwork from the comfort of his room this year.

But no.

Instead, he was going to be the new kid for his last year of high school, and to make matters worse, his dad was the principal.

Up until last April, things were going well for him--he had a steady group of friends and a reputation as the smartest guy in school. But then, because of a freak electrical fire, all the students at his old school were forced to transfer to other schools in the area. In a terrible twist of fate, he was the only one in his friend group that got sent to a different school. It just so happened to be the school  _ where his dad was the principal _ . They had promised that nothing would change, but five months later, there was barely any chatter in their groupchat.

For the first time in years, Splinter was alone and lost in the void of uncertainty about just about everything. What made him quirky and endearing to his friends was probably going to make him stick out to everyone else. For starters, he was tall.

_ Very _ tall.

So much so that the basketball team had tried to recruit him more than once.

Add his glasses and tendency to wear the brightest colours he could find, and it was a recipe for at least a few stares. “Just get through the year and it’ll be okay, Splint.” He muttered to himself as he got out of bed and started his morning routine. Quick shower, make an attempt to tame his hair, get dressed, get his notebook and other school supplies into his bag.

Last hurdle: breakfast.

When he was going to have to talk to his dad about school, no matter how much he didn’t want to. “I made French toast.” Rik van de Westelaken had the same wavy dark hair and facial structure as his son, but what set them apart, besides the height difference (Splinter had been taller than his father for three years) was his piercing stare. Even though he had a good relationship with his students, so much so that he was called ‘Principal Rik’ to his face, one wrong glance from him could have someone quaking in their shoes.

Now try living with that (even though his dad was almost always chill with him), and you’d see why he was so nervous.

“Thanks, Dad. Um...question. Nobody knows that I’m going to your school, right?” He shoved a forkful of his breakfast into his mouth after he asked, giving his dad time to think it over and answer. “Not that I know of. Why, do you want them to know?” Splinter choked, eyes widening in immediate panic, eventually blurting out  _ “No!” _ Rik couldn’t help but laugh. “I know all teenagers are supposed to hate their parents at one point or another, but that’s a little bit much, don’t you think?”

He managed to take a drink of water before he replied, “I don’t hate you, Dad, but--I don’t know, it’s weird going to school and knowing that you’re there, too. Awkward. Can we just not tell anyone unless they ask?” His head felt like it was going to explode until his dad finally nodded, frowning slightly. “I understand where you’re coming from, Splinter. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re my son, but I get that it can’t be easy to be the principal’s son, either. If anyone asks, just tell the truth and leave it at that.” Even when he was comforting him, his dad was logical.

“That makes me feel better. I’m glad you’re my dad, too.” They finished the rest of their breakfast in relative silence, broken only when they got up to put the dishes in the sink. “Do you want a ride?” Rik asked a moment before Splinter reached the front door. “It’s a nice day, I think I’ll take my bike.  _ ByeDadloveyou!” _ The last part was rushed as he practically yanked open the door and rushed outside, mentally smacking himself in the face as he did so.

_ Nice job, Splint. Now he’s probably wondering why you’re acting so weird. _


	2. Trouble

Fifteen minutes after he nearly ran out of the house, he found himself in the main office of Hagens High School, finalising his schedule with the administrative staff. “And your last period will be art history with Dr. Rooijakkers. Do you have any questions?” A shake of the head later and he was on his way to homeroom, where he found himself tasked with another obstacle: where to sit. The desks were in clusters of four, making it nearly impossible to find an empty seat that wouldn’t be saved for someone else.

_ “Psst!” _

He glanced across the room to see a girl with sea-green hair done up in two Princess Leia buns beckoning him over to one of the only empty seats in the room. “Welcome to Hagens. You must be new.” She said by way of greeting as he sat down. “I’m Lakshmi.”

“Splinter. How’d you know I’m new?” Her answering laugh wasn’t mean, more like  _ isn’t it obvious?  _ “You're the only one standing in the doorway trying to figure out where to sit. Lucky for you, one of our crew moved last year, and the others are in a different homeroom, so we've been a group of three in here ever since.” She waved a hand covered in rings at the other two in the desk cluster: a short boy with a wild mop of curly hair and a girl who looked a lot like him, curly hair and all, but with softer features. “Hey, I’m Niels. This is my sister, Rocky.” Rocky gave him a quick smile before she went back to her sewing--it looked like she was making a water bottle holder. “Nice to meet you guys. Maybe meeting new people was easier than I thought it would be.”

“Let’s see your schedule.” It turned out that every class except the last one was with at least one of his new friends, and they all even had the same lunch period on Fridays. “Art history with Dr. Rooijakkers? How’d you pull that off?” He raised an eyebrow at Niels’ question. “What do you mean? Is he a bad teacher?”

“He’s literally the best teacher at the school. Everyone wants to be in his classes, and art history is the most popular elective in the curriculum. There’s almost always a dozen-person waitlist. Are you an art nerd or something?” A shrug. “Kind of. My dad and I go to art museums whenever we go on vacation, and I was in advanced theory classes at my old school. It all adds up, I guess.” Lakshmi handed the schedule back, but not before her eyes caught the name at the top of the page. “Van de Westelaken? You related to Principal Rik?”

_ Ah, shit. _

Time to come clean.

“Yeah. He’s my dad.” He waited for more questions, for teasing, even, but all Lakshmi said was, “Cool.” The bell rang, they got up, and Splinter followed Rocky to their first class: creative writing. “Whatever you do, don’t get on Mrs. Fokker’s bad side.” She warned as they slid into a pair of desks at the front of the room. “She may seem like she’s done with everyone and everything, but she’s actually really nice.”

“I’ve never been on a teacher’s bad side before…” It was the truth; the worst thing he had ever done in school was get in a water balloon fight. Even then, his punishment had been to process overdue book forms in the school library, because no teacher could believe that Splinter ‘9 average’ van de Westelaken could have been a main guilty party in covering the school’s front lawn in balloon fragments. It paid off to be the school genius, but he still felt guilty about it--that he was exempt from actually cleaning up the mess that he had helped make, and got to sit down and basically relax while his friends did all the grunt work.

As a woman who could only be Mrs. Fokker walked to the front of the classroom just a moment before the bell rang, Splinter thought about how it was going. He had already made friends and they didn’t seem to mind who his dad was.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

The day flew by, and before he knew it, it was time for art history, the class that he was looking forward to the most--and not just because of what he had heard about Dr. Rooijakkers.

For most of Splinter’s life, it had just been him and his dad. His mom, who had taught in the art department at a university in Amsterdam, had died in a car accident when he was four. Studying art was what kept her close to him, even though he had so few memories of her. It was true that he was more of a writer than an artist and wanted to go into journalism, but he loved the arts, too.

The room where art history was taught also served as the main art classroom, so the air was thick with the smell of clay and acrylic paint, the tables covered in doodles and paint splatters. To be considerate of anyone who was shorter than him (which was probably the majority of the class), he took a seat on a stool at the table in the back before pulling out his notebook and a pencil, carefully labelling the top of the page with the date and subject.

A tap on the shoulder startled him slightly, and he turned to see that someone had sat beside him. His immediate thought was,  _ Oh, no. He’s cute. _

There was no way he’d be able to focus now. “Do you have an extra pencil? I couldn’t get to my locker in time to grab all my stuff.” It was true; the only things he had with him were a football, perched precariously near the edge of the table, and a spiral notebook. The question was innocuous enough, but he had to stammer out a reply. “Y-yeah, here.” He grabbed the extra mechanical pencil he kept in the front pocket of his messenger bag, handing it to the boy, who nodded his thanks. Thankfully, Dr. Rooijakkers had cleared his throat at the front of the room, which meant that he could focus on the lecture, rather than the cute jock boy who was sitting right next to him. It was over far too quickly, but that just made him anticipate the next class even more. After school, he found Niels and Lakshmi at the bike rack, almost as if they were waiting for him. “We’re gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?”

“Where’s Rocky?” Just as he asked, she came around the corner, dressed, it seemed, for football. “I’ve got practise in ten minutes. Be there in an hour.” She then kissed Lakshmi on the cheek and headed towards the field, leaving Splinter stunned--he hadn’t realised they were in a relationship. “I see that look. Yes, we’re dating. So,” Lakshmi said brightly, unlocking her lemon-yellow bike from the rack, “milkshakes?”

Half an hour later, the three of them were sitting around a table at the local ice cream parlour, each with a massive milkshake in front of them, a plate of fries in the middle. “How was art history?” Niels asked as he poked holes in the whipped cream on top with his straw. “You were right, Dr. Rooijakkers is  _ definitely  _ the best teacher I’ve ever had. He’s super chill, but at the same time I would never want to get on his bad side, if he even has one, you know?”

He didn’t want to tell them about how there was a cute boy in the class just yet--some things were better kept to himself--so he sat back and took a sip of his peanut butter mocha milkshake. The sugar rush was just what he needed after the first day of school. He’d need to brush his teeth extra later, but it was totally worth it. “What about you guys? How were classes?”

“Lakshmi almost fell asleep in comp sci.” Niels snickered, grabbing a fry and dunking it in his glass, causing the girl in question to protest.  _ “Hey! _ It’s not my fault they’re not teaching anything I don’t already know, and they won’t let us hack anything anymore. It’s basically a free period.” Seeing Splinter’s confused face, she explained further, “Last year, the final exam was to hack a computer in the school and change the background. Everyone else went for one of the computers in the computer lab. I hacked the principal’s. Luckily, he thought it was hilarious, but after that hacking was banned from exams. Shame, because it was the most interesting thing to happen all year.”

“What’s the point, then? You got creative and the system hated it. That sucks.” They continued to trade stories until Rocky arrived, and with her came a horde of other student athletes, the noise drowning out everything else. Among them was none other than his art history deskmate, who Splinter couldn’t help but steal a glance at. He seemed so different from how he was in class--loud, kind of rude, and-

“Earth to Splinter.” Rocky waved a hand in front of his face as she sat down, causing him to snap out of it. “Why are you staring at Josh Nolet?”  _ So that’s his name _ , he thought to himself before he turned back to his friends, figuring he might as well tell them. “He’s in art history with me. He’s kind of cute.” Everyone stared at him as if they couldn’t believe it. “What?”

Niels was the first one to spill the tea. “Splinter, I hate to burst your bubble, but he’s kind of a jerk. Actually, strike that, he’s a  _ huge _ jerk. Just because he’s the captain of the football team, he thinks he’s better than everyone else.” At first, he couldn’t quite believe what Niels was saying; he hadn’t seemed like a jerk to _ him _ . Then Rocky chimed in, “Niels is right, he's always been kind of stuck-up. More so whenever Rick Paul-” she nodded at the pale blond boy who was talking with him, “is around. Those two are great footballers, but off the field? Complete jerks.  _ Especially _ Rick Paul. Every year there’s a co-ed match for charity and every year he tries to get the girls’ team booted because we’re ‘not fast enough’. Bullshit, I can beat any of them at the 100-meter dash every time.”

Splinter’s heart sank with each word. Maybe he hadn’t been right about him, after all. “So no crush on the jock boy allowed. I get it.” He made a joke of it, they laughed, and the day went on.

But in his mind, there was still a little part that said,  _ Maybe they’re not right about him. _


End file.
